


The Emperor's Cup Bearer

by floresdemayo



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Harems, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floresdemayo/pseuds/floresdemayo
Summary: Alcestis would rather die than to have a strand of the Emperor's hair taken. She would gladly drink any poison, ingest any toxin, do anything for the man who is her reason for living. Even if for him, her life is nothing more than dirt on his feet.
Kudos: 5





	1. Chosen

"Drink it."

"No."

Copper-coloured eyes narrowed a fraction, bringing down the temperature in the room with the simple, miniscule movement. "Drink it."

She was not scared, certainly not, but her traitorous body seemed to disagree as it took an involuntary step back, effectively trapping her petite form between the solid rock wall and the imposing stature of the man before her. "No!"

Time seemed to stand still as those malevolent eyes studied her intensely, noting the contrast between her defiant blue eyes and her small, trembling lips. 

Something akin to guilt flashed in his face, before the handsome features hardened into its usual stern, cruel countenance. He didn't speak, but signalled to the two guards standing nearby - and her eyes widened with horror as the two muscled men advanced, obeying the silent command.

Quick as flash she pulled herself from the wall and dashed towards the open door, but two sets of impossibly strong arms grabbed her by the wrists and pulled back, keeping her in place. The tall, copper-eyed man strolled casually towards her, followed by a brunette, bespectacled man bearing a wide-rimmed cup made of gold. The Emperor's cup, filled to the brim with the finest wine from the West.

Wine which is most certainly poisoned.

She clamped her lips together, determined to fight to the last breath. She saw his large hand move towards her, and she crunched her eyes shut, anticipating a blow. A gasp escaped her lips as the hand moved past her face to grab her hair, pulling her head back in a tight, painful grip.

Before she knew it the cup was being brought to her lips, and her nose was being pressed with a thumb and a forefinger, forcing her to swallow instinctively.

The effect was instantaneous. Her head swam, and bile rose in her throat. A terrible burn flared in her stomach, and she hunched forward in pain, nausea quickly kicking in. She felt her knees give way beneath her, before finally, mercifully, she lost consciousness.

**cupbearer**

Alcestis woke up to the familiar feeling of numbness and general disorient, the bitter taste in her tongue and the dull ache of her stomach tell-tale signs of her most recent ordeal. "What was it this time?" She asked as loud as she could manage with her still raw throat, not bothering to open her eyes.

As she expected, a reply came instantly from somewhere on her right. "Hemlock. A liberal amount has been spread on the rim of the wine goblet served at the Emperor's table."

The explanation was given in a matter-of-fact voice, as if poisoning was something that happened on a daily basis - which, in Alcestis' case, is quite true. "Who was the culprit?"

"Daucina, the Emperor's former concubine. But you must know that already."

Indeed, she does. Why else would she intentionally drink from the Emperor's cup, knowing that the vengeful woman had poisoned it out of spite? "She is dead, I presume?"

The ensuing silence told her enough. "He made her drink it, didn't he?" She asked, this time opening her eyes, and fixing it on the solemn-faced, brunette man perched on the seat beside her sickbed.

Alamaech - the Emperor's right hand man and his personal Healer - chose to ignore the rhetorical question. Instead, he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and leaned over her on the bed, proceeding with the regular "morning after" examination. "How are you feeling?"

"You are the healer, Alamaech. You tell me how I am supposed to feel."

"Please do not be difficult, and answer me honestly. I need to know so I can determine if the antidote worked as well as it should. The Emperor will have my head should any permanent damage come upon you."

Alcestis would have rolled her eyes, if only her muscles aren't still so limp. "Of course he will. The head of the Emperor's High Counsel, in exchange for mine. Have the vapours you've been blending affected your reasoning too, Alamaech?"

Alamaech ignored her, per his usual, using his thumb to gently flip each of her eyelids open so he could check her eyes. Then he asked her to open her mouth so he could take a look at her tongue and her gums, and Alcestis complied almost out of instinct, although she did stuck her tongue out at him childishly after he was done.

He moved on to her arms and eventually to her lower extremities, poking here and there to test the firmness of the muscles, asking her if she could feel any pain, or if she is still numb. Alcestis bore the thorough examination quietly, much too used to the routine, exasperation more than willingness ensuring her obedience.

Ever since she had been chosen - or coerced, to put it more correctly - into being the Emperor's Cup Bearer two years ago, mornings like these have more or less became the norm in Alcestis's life. From that first cup forced upon her by the Emperor himself, poisoning had become almost a monthly occasion, in this vast empire rife with intrigue, treachery, and assassination attempts. What else can be expected by someone whose main duty is to pour and take the first sip of the Emperor's wine before every meal, and to sample all the food served upon his table before he takes a bite?

On really bad days - when a war is in the offing or when there are whispers of an enemy striking - preparing all the Emperor's meals becomes her duty as well. On these occasions, if the Emperor shows even the tiniest symptom of poisoning, then Alcestis' life is immediately forfeit.

"I do not understand, Alamaech." She asked, finally voicing out the question that always crossed her mind each time she emerges from the narrow passage between life and death as a matter of duty. "Why me? Why do I have to be the Cup Bearer?"

Alamaech paused in his task of taking something from his chest of potions - another dose of the antidote, perhaps - to gaze at her. There was surprise on his face, as well as uncertainty. "Being chosen as the Emperor's Cup Bearer is the greatest of honors," he replied after a while, words chosen with utmost care, "you ought to be grateful that you were deemed worthy."

He is right, of course. Before Alcestis came, the post of the Cup Bearer was highly coveted; since it required the highest level of confidence between master and servant, only the most trustworthy subject in the Emperor's court is entrusted with it. Being chosen is honor of the highest kind, not only to the person himself but to his family as well.

Alcestis still remembered the ensuing uproar when the Emperor Regulus - fifth in the generation of Draconian kings who have ruled this land for nearly a century - chose a slave of war to become his Cup Bearer.

_"Why would I take a precious subject as my food taster? Should I put at risk the life of a loyal servant - my own fellow Draconian - just to ensure my own safety?" The Emperor had drawled, when the indignant Council of Elders demanded to know why._

_"But this woman may easily betray you! Who is to stop her from putting poison in your food, or spraying toxic vapors on your chambers as you sleep?"_

_The Emperor had only smiled, his knowing eyes sliding across the room to where Alcestis stood huddled in a corner, half-hidden behind Alamaech's tall form. "Oh, she will not. I assure you, Most Esteemed Gentlemen of the Council, that I possess the very thing that will keep this woman from causing me any harm."_

He was right, of course. Alcestis would rather die than to have a strand of the Emperor's hair taken. She would gladly drink any poison, ingest any toxin, give up her life just to safeguard his.

Yes she will, because Alcestis would do anything for the man who is her reason for living. Even if for him, her life is worth no more than dirt on his feet.


	2. Honored

Alamaech closed the door to the healing room, taking extra care not to make any sound so as not to wake its sleeping occupant. Nodding a wordless order to the sentry posted at the hallway, he walked off towards the direction of the Royal Annals, where he knew the Emperor would be at this time of day.

Indeed, the exceptionally tall, well-built man was standing at a corner of the spacious room, poring over a thick roll of parchment that spilled from his powerful hands to pool at his feet. The dangerous aura of a predator rolled off of him in invisible waves, not quite tempered by the veneer of civility that stature and education has clothed him with. The Emperor did not look up when he entered, but Alamaech knew he had sensed his arrival long before he had opened the door to the Annals.

He bowed low and went direct the point, as His Majesty preferred. "She has made it through, Your Majesty. No permanent after effects, physical or otherwise."

To the untrained eye, the relieved sigh that escaped the Emperor's tight lips would have gone unnoticed. But he was Alamaech, and he had been by the Emperor's side ever since they were wee children. "How long until she fully recovers?"

"A week would be sufficient, Your Majesty, provided she rests and take her medicines religiously."

The other man nodded, finishing with the parchment in his hand and passing it over to the Annals' Keeper, who immediately handed him another set. The Emperor did not speak, but waited until the Keeper had walked out of earshot, presumably to return the read-through parchment to its proper place.

"Is there anything else?"

Alamaech nodded, impressed and intimidated by how sharp this man is. "She asked me why she had been chosen."

The Emperor was silent for a while. Flicking a glance at Alamaech, he answered calmly, "And what did you tell her?"

"I informed her that being Cup Bearer is a great honor, for which she should be eternally grateful."

"Indeed," the Emperor laughed darkly, his lips curling into a smirk. "At any rate, I believe it is about time that she is bestowed with another honorable title, don't you think?"

Alamaech frowned, before the meaning of the Emperor's words sank into his mind, and he was barely able to contain a surprised gasp. "Your Majesty?" He asked uncertainly, afraid to confirm his thoughts.

"I just lost myself a concubine. Is it not appropriate that a replacement be found?"

"Forgive me for my insolence, but - is it not too soon?"

A suffocating silence filled the room, like a snake coiling around its prey, slowly robbing it of its breath. Alamaech felt a shudder rack through his entire being as the Emperor's eyes bored into him, terrifyingly unreadable and thoroughly intimidating, although he did nothing more than shift his gaze.

Then those eyes turned away, and Alamaech was able to breathe again. "I am still waiting," the Emperor replied cryptically, returning his attention back to the parchment as if he had not just contemplated beheading his insolent right hand man. "I trust you to have all necessary arrangements done by the week's end."

"Understood, Your Majesty. Shall I start calling for candidates for the position of Cup Bearer, as well?"

Alamaech knew very well that the Emperor Regulus never had the need for a Cup Bearer. His late mother, after all, came from a clan of alchemists, and she had been feeding him small doses of poison ever since he was born. As a result, the Emperor is immune to most, if not all, the poisons ever known to man.

As High Counsel, however, Alamaech understood how important it is to keep up appearances. Alcestis' appointment has served this purpose well, and had perfectly camouflaged the true reason why the Emperor chose a war slave to be Cup Bearer.

"Has her immunity been developed to its fullest extent?" Came the expected question, to which Alamaech had a ready answer.

"She has already been introduced to the most common types of ingested and absorbed poisons, but she needs more exposure to the airborne types. I also hope to strengthen her blood's resistance, especially against recently developed toxins that can be introduced through pinprick wounds."

The Emperor nodded, thinking deeply for a moment. "Very well. Take as long as you need to, as long as it is very thorough. She stays as Cup Bearer, until she is deemed safe from all threats."

Safe. Yes, of course. There is nothing that the Emperor wanted more but to ensure the safety of his most precious possession - or treasure, truth be told - although Alamaech would never dare speak that out loud.

"Consider it done, Your Majesty."

**cupbearer**

Tatsky, Chief Eunuch of the Emperor's Harem, stood uneasily before the door to the High Counsel's chambers, an unwilling witness to an epic battle of wills.

"I will not!" the exquisitely beautiful girl with alluring blue eyes insisted, her lustrous, silvery-blonde hair swaying as she shook her head vigorously. "I would rather drink poison every day until I die!"

The High Counsel Alamaech's already furrowed brows deepened further, and his voice dripped with sarcasm as he snapped back, "Oh, you will still drink poison every day, if that is what you are worried about. But you will go to the Emperor's Harem right now, even if I have to drug you to make you cooperate."

The girl - the Lady Alcestis, Tatsky reminded himself firmly - shrank back onto the wall behind her in instinctive fright at her mentor's unusual loss of temper.

The moment was short lived, however, as those blue eyes lit with determined fire, and she stood up to her full height - all five feet of it - her stance ready to fight. "I dare you."

She seemed equally ready to take flight too, so Tatsky planted his considerable block more securely before the door, ready to intervene if the situation demanded.

Alamaech apparently thought of the same thing, for he flicked a quick glance at the screen wall of his chambers, too fast for the furious girl to notice. Then, with a sigh, he gave his last warning. "You are a bright, reasonable young woman, Alcestis. Please, do not make this any harder than it should be."

"And you, High Counsel Alamaech, are a compassionate, fair and just man who I respect most highly. Please, listen to my plea. I will do anything, take anything - just do not send me away!"

A flash of pity crossed Alamaech's eyes, and for a moment Tatsky thought that he would give in. At the last moment, however, the hand hidden beneath the long folds of his robes moved; and Tatsky only had a moment to cover his nose with the hem of his tunic's sleeves, before the telltale vapour of sleeping potion permeated the air.

Alcestis had seen the bottle, but before she can breathe another word, Alamaech had already flicked the stopper off and passed the open mouth under her nostrils. Tatsky moved forward to catch the girl as she fainted, but not before a lithe, strong figure in a royal robes appeared from behind the screen wall, as sleek and as quick as a striking serpent.

The Emperor caught the falling girl easily, and Tatsky saw the slight displeasure in his narrowed eyes as he lifted her gently into his arms. Like Alamaech, the Emperor is impervious to the effect of the sleeping potion, as he is to almost any other form of lethal poisons.

After all, the Emperor Regulus is known as the Immortal One, a legend built after he escaped unscathed in all battles he had gone to, including the one that killed his father and the former crown prince.

"Is she not immune yet to this type of toxin?" the Emperor asked, regarding his right-hand man with disapproving eyes.

"She will be after this, Your Majesty. I am gradually increasing the toxicity level of the potions I subject her to, so as not to drive her system into shock. My apologies for failing to inform you ahead of time."

Alamaech bowed in supplication, and Tatsky found himself unable to lift his eyes as the constricting air of the Emperor's presence descended upon the room. Then His Majesty nodded, and the tension was lifted; Alamaech straightened, and Tatsky looked up - straight into a pair of intense, copper-colored eyes.

"Everything has been prepared according to instructions, Your Majesty," Tatsky said, replying to the unspoken demand. "If I may be allowed to lead the way..."

The Emperor nodded, but glared when Tatsky moved to take the sleeping girl from his arms. Chastened, Tatsky gave a small murmur of apology and turned around, clearing the way to the Harem.

It was past midnight, so the Harem was fast asleep. The eunuchs assigned to night watch stiffened when they saw the Emperor, but Tatsky bade them to be quiet, and they swept silently to their knees as they walked by. They passed the grander, classier chambers of the most-favored concubines - little queens in their own little kingdoms, although the Emperor has yet to officially name an Empress - to the more simple, smaller lodgings for the rest of the Harem's women.

Tatsky walked ahead to a nondescript door in the middle of a long corridor and pushed it open, revealing a tastefully decorated, decently sized chamber that was not much different from those of the other women. Nothing in the room would suggest the importance of its occupant - unless you are the Chief Eunuch, who had been tasked to arrange this lodging according to the Emperor's exact specifications.

All furniture and decor in the room came from the Emperor's chambers, and all linens, rugs, and bed sheets had been meticulously inspected and "treated" by Alamaech beforehand. Even the room's location itself was strategic - a trapdoor underneath the bed leads to a path outside the Palace, or the Emperor's chambers, whichever of the two will be safer at the time of an emergency.

It was the room where Evenus, the Emperor's mother, stayed in during her years as concubine. This is also where the young Regulus grew up, until he had come of age and was formally presented as the Second Prince.

Tatsky moved aside and watched in silence as the Emperor brought his precious burden to the bed, laying her down gently on the sheets. Then he sat down beside Alcestis, his usually cold eyes alive with emotions that threatened to spill out from its yellow depths as they gazed upon her sleeping face. A powerful hand - so merciless with others - tenderly carded through the fair tresses, pulling tendrils away from the innocent face, trailing caresses down the smooth cheek and the slender neck.

The moment looked so intimate that even Tatsky had to look away. This is hardly the first time that he had seen the Emperor in bed with a woman - hell, even with two or three or more at one time, for Regulus is as virile as a wild stallion in heat - but he had never seen him like this, desperately reigning himself in, although every cell in his body showed just how badly he wanted this woman.

Tatsky remembered when Alcestis first came into the Palace - unconscious as she is now, nestled snugly in the circle of the Emperor's arms as he trotted into the walls upon his great white horse. She was so young then - barely sixteen - and her fair coloring was a sight to behold in this land of browns, yellows, and reds. The Emperor himself had lifted her off the horse, and carried her off to the royal guestroom to spend the night.

Everyone expected the newcomer to be brought to the Harem - she is breathtakingly beautiful, although quite young for the Emperor's tastes - but to the entire court's surprise, she was "gifted" to the High Counsel the very next day.

Afterwards, around the time that she was adjusting to her new life - she had amazed Tatsky with her ability to learn so quickly, from the Draconian languages to its political history - she was appointed as Cup Bearer, a position she held for the past two years.

From the corner of his eye Tatsky saw the Emperor lean forward to place a soft kiss on Alcestis' forehead, then on the tip of her nose, down to her lips. He started to move out, wondering if the Emperor's famed control has finally snapped - but was halted before he could close the door.

"I am leaving." The Emperor said, standing up, his eyes shuttering once more as he lifted them away from Alcestis' sleeping face. "I leave her to your care, Chief Eunuch."

Somehow, that simple command felt heavier than any duty Tatsky had bore during his lengthy service to the Empire. "I will watch over her with my life, Your Majesty."


	3. Summoned

Alcestis knelt on one corner of the huge pergola, her petite, white-frocked frame and braided, brilliant hair a refreshing contrast to the surrounding heaps of multi-colored silk dresses, painstakingly styled tresses, and ridiculously long, fluttering eyelashes. She kept still as the women around her wriggled and fidgeted, casting furtive, critical glances at each other and trying to make themselves stand out as much as possible.

Chief Eunuch Tatsky stood at the front of the pergola, watchful eyes scanning the sea of women spread on their knees before him. The Emperor's seat - an elevated alcove with curtains and cushions of black silk woven in gold - hovered over them all, filling the Harem with expectant tension.

It was the end of the week, the night before the Emperor's day of rest. The first thing Alcestis discovered when she first entered the Harem three months ago was the importance of this day, and why it pushed all the Emperor's women into a frenzied, mindless state of mild panic.

"You are still not dressed?" The Chief Eunuch had asked her that first week, when he chanced upon her on the way back from the communal baths.

"Is there an occasion, sire?" She asked with furrowed brows, noting the surprised gasp of the chambermaid who had been assisting her.

Tatsky looked at her with disbelieving eyes, until he seemed to remember that she was new to this scheme of things. "The Emperor visits the Harem every last day of the week," he explained patiently, shepherding her and the chambermaid back to her room, "Unlike the other days of the week when his partners are chosen for him, today he personally selects who shall be his companion for the night."

Alcestis stiffened, icy fear curling up her spine. "Will I be punished if I do not participate?"

"The Emperor keeps tabs of all his possessions, and knows how many women are there at the Harem at any given time. If he finds out that one or two are missing, explanations would have to be made."

From the way he emphasized the word "explanations," Alcestis knew that absences short of illness or death will be unforgivable. "I understand." Sighing, she turned towards her chambers, thinking of how not to be spotted or worse, chosen. "I shall prepare myself, then."

She need not have bothered. For all the twelve weeks that she had been here, the Emperor had not once asked for her, or even bothered to cast a glance her way as he surveyed the pretty, simpering playthings that composed his Harem. Nor had she been presented to the Emperor as a matter of course, although she had gleaned from conversing with the other concubines that newcomers are usually "called to serve" within the first week of their arrival.

Oh yes, Alcestis had been summoned, too, but in her capacity as Cup Bearer, spending all her meals at the Emperor's table like she had done for the past two years. Her daily routine remained essentially the same, and except for the fact that she is now living in the Harem, there are no indications that her status in the Draconian court had changed at all.

She wouldn't have minded, but women in the Harem have been whispering behind her back, spreading rumours that she was being kept solely for the purpose of being sold or "gifted" to the Emperor's allies, and that she was called into the Harem simply to increase her "value".

Alcestis ignored the gossips at first, but there is only so much that she could bear after being ignored week after week. Her uncertainty as to where she stood now in the Emperor's court did not help matters any. Oh, she knew that she had never been on his good graces - as Cup Bearer, she is no more than a shield that stood between Regulus and possible death. But at least, outside the Harem, she had some degree of protection, afforded by her position and her status as the High Counsel's protégé.

Now she cannot even talk to Alamaech, restricted as she was by being one of the Emperor's women, and the pleading letters she had tried to smuggle to him had all been intercepted and eventually burned. She had even attempted to sneak into his rooms, or to catch him as he walked on his way from one appointment to the next - she knew his schedule, after all - but she always got caught, and grounded for days for her efforts.

So it was that Alcestis found herself actually dressing up for today's visitation. Not that it could be classified as dolling up, at least not when compared to how the rest of the women were dressed. Still, she had taken time to plaid her hair, and wore the only colour that she knew would stand out in the sea of rainbow silks and also complement her fair, very light complexion.

I just want him the Emperor to see me, she thought, trying to convince herself to stay and not to bolt once the doors to the Harem fling open. It does not matter if I am chosen or not. Perhaps I could ask for an audience, present my position? It is nothing I have never done before.

Suddenly the huge doors flew open, and a hush fell over the crowd as the Emperor Regulus walked into the enclosure, attended by a couple of eunuchs in soldier's garb. The women fell into a reverent vow at his feet, hands next to each other with palms flat on the floor, foreheads resting on their knuckles. Tatsky gave a deep bow, and waited until the Emperor was seated upon the alcove before speaking.

"The women of your Harem, all ready to serve however it may please you, Your Majesty."

There was intense silence as a pair of copper-hued eyes roved over the kneeling women, giving a once over to his favourites who are at the front of the line, before shifting methodically through the long line of women behind. Alcestis kept her head and eyes downcast, until she felt a suffocating gaze rest upon her face, burning a hole to her soul. She lifted her eyes, and almost gasped.

The Emperor was looking at her, eyes blazing with an emotion so intense that she trembled under his steady gaze.

Then his face became shuttered, and those eyes, unreadable once more, turned away, passing over the other women as clinically as before. Finally, he called Tatsky over, speaking into his ear before standing up and leaving the Harem as quickly as he had arrived.

The Chief Eunuch called off the names of five concubines - Alcestis heard a gasp echo across the crowd, apparently this is not a normal occurrence - and she was not one of them, as expected. She was not disappointed, definitely not, but still, a deep sigh escaped her lips as she stood up, trudging back to her room along with the rest of the women.

**cupbearer**

She did get summoned that evening, although for an entirely different reason.

It was quarter past midnight when a heavy knock sounded on her door, followed by the quiet, hurried footsteps of her maid hurrying into the room. "My lady? Please wake up, my lady!"

Alcestis opened her eyes, taking a moment to re-orient herself before sitting up. "What happened? Is there something wrong?"

"My lady, His Majesty is calling for you. The Chief Eunuch is waiting outside to escort you to the Imperial Chambers. Please, put this on."

She dressed up hurriedly, waving off the maid's attempts to put rouge on her lips and cheeks, content with running a hand through her messy locks and washing her face to remove all traces of sleep. The maid had brought her the white frock she had worn that afternoon, miraculously freshly laundered, as well as her favorite scent of lavender, which did wonders for the sudden nervousness that assaulted Alcestis's senses.

She was at the familiar door leading to the Emperor's chambers within ten minutes, fidgeting and shifting her weight from one foot to the other as Tatsky made the requisite introductions. When she was finally ushered inside, her eyes fell to the low table in the midst of the carpeted living area, which had been set with an assortment of fruits, meat, bread and an array of wine.

Ah. So this is a midnight snack, for which the Cup Bearer is required.

She knelt on the floor, at the left side of the head of the table, and had barely settled in when the door to the Emperor's bedchambers opened. Out strode Regulus, tying the sash of his red and black robe tightly around his tapered waist, his dark hair damp as if he had just left the bath. The skin around his eyes was taut, and his lips were pressed in a thin line of discontent. It contradicted harshly against the refreshed aura he is presently projecting.

Alcestis fell into a formal bow as soon as the Emperor stepped in. Before doing so, however, she managed to steal a glance at the open door to his bedchambers, and had to stifle a gasp at the scene that met her eyes.

The five concubines who have been selected earlier that evening lay in a sweaty tangle of naked limbs on the red sheets, make-up ruined and hair in disarray. All of them were unconscious, and looked fucked within an inch of their lives.

So the rumors were true - the Emperor is as much as a devil in bed as he was in the battlefield.

He settled on the cushion at the head of the table, not even sparing her kneeling form an acknowledging glance. Used to being ignored, Alcestis straightened and went straight to work, popping open the cork on the first wine bottle and pouring the proper amount into the Emperor's cup. She sniffed at the wine first - she was skilled enough to tell if something is poisoned just by the smell - before bringing the cup to her lips and taking a sip.

Alcestis waited for the requisite number of minutes, giving the poison time to work if there indeed is any, although she knew from the way the wine tasted that it was unsullied. When the time is up, she very carefully took the cup and presented it to the Emperor, head slightly bowed, eyes kept downcast.

He accepted it and took a sip, and she noted with chagrin that his lips were at the very same spot where hers had been. But then, she supposed that the rim of the cup might have been as easily poisoned, and it only made sense that the Emperor would drink from the side that his Cup Bearer had deemed safe.

Regulus gestured to the loaf of rye bread, and Alcestis took it, broke a piece, and put it into her mouth. Once that was clear as well, she used the knife to cut a thick piece, and likewise offered it to the Emperor.

The meal passed in silence, with her taking a bite of everything in a ritual that she knew like the back of her hand. She did not offer any conversation, knowing that none is expected from the Cup Bearer. So she was taken aback when he addressed her out of the blue, his deep baritone sounding ominous in the quiet room.

"You wish to speak with me, Cup Bearer?"

Caught unawares, she broke out of her studied subjugation and flicked wide, deer-caught-in-headlights eyes to the Emperor's impassive face. "I - yes, I did, but no - it is not important, Your Majesty."

His eyebrows curled upwards, his disbelief obvious. "Is that so? Then perhaps I misunderstood."

Alcestis mentally slapped herself. Of course he had not. She had intentionally tried to get his attention last night during the visitation, although she is not so sure what to do now that the attempt was successful.

She cleared her throat, and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "Will I be sent away, to be gifted?"

For a quick moment, the Emperor looked surprised, before his features rearranged themselves into his usual mask of cool indifference. "Why would you think that?" He asked, in a tone that sounded genuinely curious.

"Your Majesty, I - I have been in the Harem for three months, and have not been called, not even once."

The Emperor did not reply immediately, just regarded her with a disconcerting, unreadable look. "Who I send away or retain is by my own choice, and not by some coincidental criteria concocted by others."

"But," she said softly, faltering slightly when she saw the stern look on his face, "I had been gifted once, to Alamaech."

At the mention of the name the Emperor's eyes narrowed, and Alcestis shivered as the temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees. "Ah, yes, Alamaech. I have heard of the love letters, and the stalking incidents."

"Those were not love letters! And I was not stalking - I just wanted to talk to him, is all."

"And why would a woman of the Harem want to talk with the High Counsel?"

"Well, he is my - I am Alamaech's --"

"You are not Alamaech's." He cut in, a dagger cutting ruthlessly through the quiet air. "You are the Emperor's Cup Bearer, and a woman of the Imperial Harem."

She opened her mouth to reply, but he was faster, grasping the back of her neck with a firm hand and pulling her to him, a proprietary arm encircled about her waist. Whatever protests she might have were silenced by a bruising, possessive kiss.

Regulus' right hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head back, not painful, but effectively keeping her in place. He bit at her lower lip, and she moaned, losing herself further when she felt his tongue plunging inside her mouth, claiming and conquering, leaving no room for any other thoughts but his name, his smell and how he feels.

She had been kissed like this before, on that fateful night after Regulus had saved her from certain death. He had taken her then too, fully and completely, and this kiss was enough to bring back the memories of that long-forgotten night, to override all her mistrust and misgivings, and ignite the burning desire that coursed treacherously, like poison, through her blood.

Then, as quick as the kiss started, it was abruptly cut off. The hands that were pulling her so closely before now pushed her away, and she reeled at the abrupt movement, clutching at the edge of the table to keep her balance. She raised confused, glazed eyes to the Emperor's face, and winced at the loathing that she saw there.

"Leave." The single-word command was terse, brooking no disobedience.

"Your Majesty..."

"Leave. _Now_."

Alcestis did not understand, not at all, but she obeyed, giving a clumsy bow before stumbling out of the Imperial Chambers. She ran out as fast as her weakened knees could carry her, eyes blinded with tears.


	4. Poisoned

High Counsel Alamaech gazed long and hard at the list in his hands, brows furrowed in consternation. Flicking a glance at the huge man standing before his desk, he asked in disbelief, "This many?"

The Chief Eunuch nodded gravely, steel grey eyes concerned. "Yes, High Counsel. The symptoms are the same with all the women, although different in stages."

Alamaech sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "How many has His Majesty been requesting lately, and how often?"

"Three to five at a time, every night, for the past month."

This was backlash from that night then, no doubt about it. Alamaech did not know the specifics, but understood that whatever transpired with the Cup Bearer was enough to bring the worst out of the Emperor. There will be no way to go about this, then, but to control the imminent damage, and wait until His Majesty is once again in full control of his emotions.

"Very well. Arrange for the immediate transfer of the affected women, and bring in new faces to even out the numbers. Better still, increase the number of the women by at least one-fourth, at least."

Tatsky's smooth forehead ruffled, as he crunched numbers in his mind. "Logistics will not be too happy with the increased expenses. As it is, the Council is already harping on how much it takes to maintain the Harem, and without an heir to justify its existence."

"Let the old men stew. If they have any issues, tell them to bring it up to me."

The eunuch's face was filled with respect. "Understood, sire."

Alamaech waited for the other man to take his leave, and when he did not, cocked his head to the right curiously. It was very much unlike the Chief Eunuch to hesitate. "Well?"

"It is about the Lady Alcestis, High Counsel. She does not seem herself lately."

Alamaech's head jerked up at that. "Is there anything wrong with her?" He asked, alarm making his tone sharp.

"No, nothing physically, that much is certain. But she had been in low spirits, ever since the Emperor had stopped calling for her as Cup Bearer."

Alamaech muttered an expletive under his breath. He had known this would happen, considering how insecure Alcestis felt about her current position in the Draconian court. But what is he supposed to do, when the Emperor himself had refused to call for her, and for good reason?

"What has she been doing lately, to occupy the time?" Alamaech had sent her books, knowing that she will be bored out of her mind now that her duties as Cup Bearer were suspended indefinitely. Considering how brilliant she is, however, the piles of reading material he had given her will definitely not suffice, for she devoured books faster than the Royal Annals can print them.

A fond smile crossed the Chief Eunuch's face as he replied. "The Lady has taken to treating the other women of the common illnesses that assault them. She had become the unofficial Healer of the Harem, so to speak."

Somehow, that did not surprise Alamaech, although he found himself shaking his head at the irony. The rare flower amongst the Harem, taking care of the weeds that were there precisely to protect her. "Did she notice what was happening to the other concubines?"

Tatsky nodded gravely, and Alamaech felt that this was the crux of the Chief Eunuch's concerns. "Yes, she did, and she had been asking questions. I deflected them as much as I could, but the Lady Alcestis is a very clever woman, not to mention quite relentless."

"I could imagine. Thank you for bringing this up, Chief Eunuch. I shall see to it that something is done."

The big man sighed, relieved. He murmured his thanks, bowed down in respect, and left the room as silently as he had come.

Once the door was closed behind the Chief Eunuch's broad back, Alamaech collapsed back on his seat, allowing himself a few moments to close his eyes, mind whirring around the problem at hand. The increasing number of women falling ill, even if it decimates the Harem in half, is the least of his concerns; it paled in comparison to the complicated task of looking after one naive, but impossibly curious girl.

If only he could make the potions work faster, find a more expedient way to do what he must. But poisons are tricky to work with, much more so if they are as potent as the one he is trying to insulate Alcestis against. It did not help that her constitution is much more delicate than average, her system made significantly weak by her brush with death two years ago.

Alamaech had barely saved her then, and he does not wish for a repeat of the incident. He shuddered to think of what the Emperor might do, should Alcestis be lost to them for good.

Making up his mind, Alamaech straightened up, steeled his resolve, and went to seek audience with the Emperor.

**cupbearer**

Berenice looked up with awe at the tall, incredibly handsome man, mouth agape beneath the thin veil that covered her face from the nose down. Beside her, the other newly selected concubines gushed and shuddered, seemingly as floored as she was.

Then the man before them smirked - a slight lifting of his lips, accentuated with a knowing glint in his eyes - and Berenice's stomach did a double flip, heat pooling from her cheeks down to her groin. Heavens, he is gorgeous. And to think that she will be lying with this godlike creature, just a few hours from now!

It was enough that he was drop-dead handsome. But no, he is the Emperor, the Immortal One himself - and Berenice's fortune had smiled upon her, when she was chosen as one of the select women of the Imperial Harem. Now, barely two months after she had stepped into the Palace, she had been personally selected by the Emperor as his companion, for the fifth week in a row.

Along with two others, a part of her mind whispered treacherously, but she paid it no mind. She had been chosen, that is what is important - out of the thousands of women of the Draconian Empire, and now, out of the hundred or so unnamed faces in the Harem.

That, and the chance to finally produce an heir for the Emperor, a feat yet to be accomplished by any other woman in Draconia.

The Emperor left then, in a flurry of black and gold robes, and Berenice, along with the two others, were left with the Chief Eunuch for the final instructions.

She listened to them with half an ear, leaving her maid to do most of the note-taking. When they were finally, finally told to go, she skipped on ahead of the others, mind already whirling at the preparations waiting head.

There was a small crowd at the corridor leading to her chambers, and she frowned in mild confusion. Hers was an out-of-the-way room, reserved primarily for concubines of lesser status, or neophytes such as her. So it was quite a surprise to see some of the favorites standing there, or sitting on cushions scattered on the floor, seemingly waiting in line for someone.

Then the door next to Berenice's chambers flew open, and out strolled the fairest woman that she had ever laid eyes on.

"The Lady Alcestis," Berenice heard the maid whisper beside her, in a tone that belied fondness and reverence.

Berenice knew who she was, of course. In the short time that she had been here, Alcestis' name had come up in the small conversations she had with the other concubines. Apparently, she is the Emperor's Cup Bearer, called into the Harem almost a year ago. She had not been summoned to the Emperor's bed, not even once, although she regularly served the Emperor's table except for a month-long break a few moons back. Initially ridiculed for being unwanted, she is now well-loved and trusted among the women as the Harem's exclusive Healer, despite her young age.

Alcestis was talking to a pregnant woman - pregnancies occur fairly often in the Harem, given how virile the Emperor was - although a few of them ever last beyond the second trimester, and those which do often end up giving birth to stillborns. More alarmingly so, a dozen or so women fall ill after spending a few months in the Harem, afflicted with an incurable illness that would require them to retire for good.

It was the biggest, most well-kept secret in the Draconian Empire - the curse in the otherwise illustrious reign of the Immortal Emperor.

It was said, though, that the health of the women started improving when Alcestis began her small medical practice in the Harem. A favorite who had given up all hope of being producing another child became pregnant again, and it was enough for the rest of the women to fall at the Cup Bearer's feet.

Berenice walked into the circle of women, and the movement caught Alcestis' eyes. A lovely smile graced the other's beautiful face when their eyes met. "Berenice, is it? I heard you have been selected again. I wish you well in tonight's rendezvous."

Berenice was only barely able to keep the smugness out of her tone. It would not do to ruin her relationship with the Lady Alcestis, not when half of the Harem is already jealous over Berenice's good fortune. "Thank you, my Lady."

The other girl thought for a while, then called for her maid, who obediently went back inside her mistress' room to retrieve a pouch. Alcestis dug onto the bag, then pulled out a packet of herbs which she gave to Berenice. "Mix it in a glass of water, and drink before you proceed to the Emperor's chambers."

"What is it for?" Berenice asked, out of pure curiosity.

"It is a potion to increase fertility, as well as to increase your energy for the night."

The other women giggled, and Berenice blushed faintly, murmuring her gratitude.

Hours later, when the endless marathon of sex that lasted into the wee hours of the morning finally ended, Berenice was thanking the Lady Alcestis and congratulating herself for taking her advice. While the two other women had collapsed way too early, she was able to stay awake and serve the Emperor, taking even His Majesty by surprise with her endurance.

And, given how many rounds they had went at it, it is very likely that he had impregnated her before the night was over.

When Berenice opened her eyes the next day, it was midmorning. Her body ached all over, and she felt like she might have a small fever. But at least, she was awake - unlike the two other concubines who were still dead to the world, plastered onto the sumptuous sheets, naked and sweaty. The Emperor is nowhere to be seen.

She made it out of bed, and a maid appeared out of nowhere to assist her. After a long, luxurious bath, she changed into a set of new, lovely clothes laid out on the dressing area - a gift from the Emperor, the maid informed her - before heading out into the living area for a late breakfast.

The low table was set with the most splendid spread of bread, fruits and meat that Berenice had ever seen. The Emperor was already there, perched regally on his seat the head of the table, being attended to by a beautiful, fair-haired creature who was pouring wine onto a golden cup.

Berenice realized immediately who it was - the Lady Alcestis, the Emperor's Cup Bearer.

Alcestis looked up when Berenice entered, and gave her a small, knowing smile with a quick, naughty wink. The servers, unused to seeing one of the Emperor's women up this early, scrambled to clear a space in the table. The Emperor did not seem bothered, though, and motioned for Berenice to join him.

Berenice did, albeit self-consciously. She did not know what to do, if she was expected to serve the Emperor, or to offer conversation - so she looked at the Lady for guidance. Unfortunately, Alcestis was too occupied to pay any attention to her- she was presently lifting the filled cup to her nostrils, sniffing its contents briefly before taking a cautious, studied sip.

The concubine watched the ritual with fascination, and with no small amount of jealousy. The Cup Bearer was doing intimate things that a woman of the Harem can only dream of - drinking directly from the Emperor's cup, inspecting each dish meticulously, serving His Majesty like a wife would do for her husband.

Berenice gaped as the Cup Bearer lifted the golden goblet and offered it to the Emperor, who took and turned it, and touched his lips onto the very same spot where the Lady Alcestis' have been.

An indirect kiss, Berenice thought mindlessly, realizing how innately different that simple, affectionate gesture was with the brutal, lust-driven kisses that she and the Emperor had shared last night.

It is probably what drove her to do what she did next. "Your Majesty, may I - may I be allowed to take a sip?"

Time stood still as the impertinent request hung in the air, the Emperor's questioning eyes sliding slowly over to where Berenice sat, stiff and red-faced, realizing her mistake but not quite knowing how to redeem herself. He regarded his new concubine with a steely gaze, seemingly weighing something in his indefatigable mind, before coming to a conclusion.

His Majesty set the golden cup onto the table, and gestured to Berenice to take it. "Very well, have a taste."

The Cup Bearer looked shocked, although she did not speak. Berenice was taken aback as well, but now that her request had been miraculously granted - surely it could only mean that the Emperor had taken a very great liking to her, to make an exception?

Very carefully, disciplining herself so as to keep from spilling the wine in her excitement, Berenice took the goblet, inhaled deeply, and took a sip.

The wine slid a burning pattern into her throat, and as soon as the liquid pooled into her stomach, she felt it. The sudden numbness of her tongue, the constricting of her airways, the sudden cramping in her belly. Then her vision started wavering, and the last thing she saw before darkness took over was the pale, aghast face of the Cup Bearer.


	5. Saved

The trial and sentencing of the Lady Alcestis, Cup Bearer to the Emperor of Draconia, was swift, sure, and merciless.

No one actually saw what happened, since only the concubine, the Cup Bearer, and the Emperor himself were present at the time of the incident. The most plausible explanation would be that the herbs given by Alcestis to Berenice were ingredients to an incomplete recipe for poison, a part of which had been mixed earlier with the wine. Hence, the potion did not affect the Cup Bearer and the Emperor, who partook of the drink first.

Motive was very easy to determine, too. The Lady Alcestis had been in the Harem for the past year, without having been summoned by the Emperor, not even once. Berenice, a newcomer, was chosen right away and became a favourite barely two weeks after her entrance to the Harem, a truly enviable feat. It was jealousy, pure and simple, the fury of a woman scorned.

At any rate, the truth was not needed - as far as the Council of Elders is concerned, the fact that there was poisoning, in the presence of the Emperor, was enough to condemn the Cup Bearer.

The Lady Alcestis did not offer any defense on her behalf, either. She had kept still, compliant and resigned, as the Chief Eunuch came to take her into custody, to be kept under lock and key in her chambers at the Harem until her punishment is determined.

She had remained quiet as well, all throughout the short, rash tirade by the Council's members when she was presented to them for trial. When asked to speak, she only allowed herself one sentence, ringing loud and true in the quiet hall.

"I am the Emperor's Cup Bearer. If His Majesty deems me guilty of the crime committed, then I am."

The Emperor, who had been observing the trial with detached interest, merely smirked at the declaration. The Council unanimously voted to impose the penalty of death, leaving the manner of execution for the Emperor to decide. After all, the Lady Alcestis is still a woman of the Harem, for the Emperor to do as he wishes.

His Majesty's orders were plaintive, as cruel and dispassionate as his bed encounters.

"By poison the Cup Bearer lived, so by poison shall her life end."

**cupbearer**

When you are dying, your life flashes before your eyes, they say. Hers did, although the memory was that of a single event, filled with fire and hale, screams of pain and despair, and the smell of fear and death.

It was the first time she met Regulus, her saviour, her reason for living.

_It was a surprise attack. A spy from the rival clan had found its way to the sanctum of her people, and had put poison in the food they prepared for the annual feast. When half of her kin were weak or dying, the enemy's warriors had come, killing everyone off and ransacking the sacred halls._

_They would have carried off the treasures and burned the temples, if a legion of the Imperial Army of Draconia had not accidentally stumbled upon the raid._

_Although Alcestis's people were not exactly allies of the Empire, their home rests upon territory that Draconia claims as its own and had sworn to protect._

_"Is she alive?"_

_"Yes, Your Majesty. She does not appear to be wounded, but she is pale and cold, and barely breathing."_

_She felt calloused, gentle hands lifting her from where she lay curled on the ground, beside the corpse of her father, who had died covering her from their enemies._

_"Alamaech. Come and take a look at her, quickly."_

_"Yes, my Prince." Another pair of hands, smaller and smoother than the first, methodically went through her limbs, coming to rest at the wound on her ankle._

_"Curses. It's a poisoned arrow."_

_"Give her the antidote."_

_"My apologies, Your Highness, but this is poison with a curse. For the antidote to work, it requires the blood of the tribe who made the poison."_

_Silence, then a curt command. "Tell everybody else to leave."_

_"My Prince, you couldn't be thinking of..."_

_"Now, Alamaech."_

_Sounds of a command being given, and feet scurrying away. Then she was being laid on her back, and the tip of a sharp knife was probing the wound on her feet. She supposed it hurt, but her body was too numb to register pain._

_"How much blood do you need?"_

_"Just a few drops, Your Majesty. Directly on the wound, if you please."_

_The knife on her feet was lifted, and there was the dull, chilling sound of blade breaking skin. Something sizzled - what was that burning smell? - as a few drops fell onto the wound at her ankle. There was a warm sensation, then a pain so intense that it broke through the haze of numbness enveloping her._

_She must have screamed, for there were gentle hands carding through her hair, and nonsensical, shushing noises murmured on her ear. Then after the blinding, crippling pain, a sense of relief, and the blessed peace of sleep._

Alcestis opened her eyes. It felt familiar, the lack of sensation on her limbs, the thickness in her tongue, the slight burning of her lips. Her head was heavy and her vision fogged. It felt like she had been poisoned.

But she was, wasn't she? The last thing she remembered, she was sitting on her room at the Harem, a cup of poison being brought to her lips. Alamaech was there, as was the Chief Eunuch, appointed as witnesses in behalf of the Chief Executioner, who cannot be allowed into a concubine's quarters.

She could still taste the fear, hear the thundering of blood in her ears, her entire body rebelling as she forced it to accede, to accept her fate - death by poisoning, for the Cup Bearer who failed in her duty to protect her master.

She doesn't feel "dead" at all, however. In fact, she felt very much alive, like she never was before.

Very carefully, she turned her head to the side, trying to make sense of her surroundings. There was a window to her right, where the morning light was streaming through the medium-thick drapes, and to her left, a wall.

No, not a wall. It was a chest, muscled and chiselled, heaving slightly at each breath its owner took. Alcestis's eyes wandered from the deliciously tantalizing piece of flesh - party hidden beneath a red robe with gold trimmings - up to the strong neck, to the handsome face that she knew so well.

The Emperor was fast asleep, raven black bangs falling over his forehead, deceptively docile in his relaxed state. He was lying on his side, one arm curled protectively over her head, the other draped over her waist, cradling her possessively against his side. The bedcovers pooled around their entangled bodies like a nest, warm and comfortable, secure just like home.

The last time she had woken up like this, snug, secured and protected, was the morning after she had survived the poisoned arrow.

Before she could make sense of what was happening, those copper eyes opened, blinked, then shifted to gaze at her face. For a long moment, all he did was stare, as if not quite believing what he was seeing. Then, he gave a deep, relieved sigh, before gathering her more closely to him and burying his face into her hair.

"Welcome back, my beloved."


	6. Beloved

_She gazed back at him, fear and mistrust warring with gratitude and curiosity in her tantalizing blue eyes. She knew he had saved her life, and the pride of her clan demanded that she honour that grace with everlasting loyalty. On the other hand, she had been through the worst ordeal that a girl of such young age could ever experience - having your entire clan decimated before your very eyes would make anyone wary and understandably cautious._

_So Regulus did not push it. He waited for her to speak, to ask the questions that were spilling from those intelligent, damnably tempting eyes._

_"Who are you?"_

_Not very polite, but he supposed that was to be expected from the heir apparent of the proud Mages of the Eastern Plains. "My name is Regulus, and I am the Crown Prince of Draconia."_

_He saw that the name registered, by the way her face frowned in recognition. "The Crown Prince of Draconia is dead, as well as its Emperor."_

_The Mages are well-informed, it seems. Too bad the entire clan had been annihilated; they would have made worthy allies. "Yes, I am returning from the war that killed both my father and elder brother. I have yet to be proclaimed by the Council, so my title for now is Crown Prince."_

_She nodded, digesting that piece of information and deeming it the truth, as it was. "Very well then. I owe you my life, Crown Prince of Draconia. As I have lost everything I have, I offer to you the only things left to me - my undying loyalty and service."_

_She did not realize it, but she had just offered to Regulus the most important thing any person could ever give him. "What is your name?"_

_"My name is Alcestis, daughter of the erstwhile Chief Mage of the Eastern Plains."_

_He knew who she was, of course. He first saw her a year ago, when he crossed the Eastern Plains on his way to spy on the neighboring enemy kingdom, on orders of his father the Emperor._

_He had chanced upon a group of young Mages, who were gathered in a circle around a little boy bitten by a venomous snake. Regulus was just about to leave his hiding place and interfere when a young girl with silvery blonde hair and eyes the color of the sky stepped determinedly out of the circle._

_She knelt before the boy, quickly and efficiently tearing a piece of her headscarf and tying a perfect tourniquet above the bite. Then she pulled out a silver dagger from the folds of her white robe, and ran a gentle, reassuring hand through the boy's hair. "Trust me, Clytius?"_

_The boy took one look at the steely, calm resolve on her face and nodded. The girl bestowed him a comforting smile before she took the knife, deftly slitting the pinprick wounds to make the blood flow out. Then, without a word, she crouched and closed her lips over the wound, sucking out the venom and spitting it out._

_Regulus will never forget how she looked then, lips coated with blood, fair hair glinting in the midmorning sunlight and bright blue eyes afire with a passion that contrasted with her cool, collected demeanour. He carried the image of her to the battlefield, swearing to himself that he will return from the war in one piece just so he can go and see her again, whatever the cost might be._

_He was just on time. Had he been a moment late, Alcestis would have died along with the rest of the Eastern Mages, and Regulus would have gone mad with rage._

_"How old are you?"_

_"I am fifteen and a half winters' old, Your Majesty."_

_Regulus had never considered himself a cradle robber, not until now. "Well then, Alcestis, Mage of the Eastern Plains," he said, in a voice that carried all the authority of his twenty five summers, "I, Crown Prince of Draconia, accept your offer of loyalty and service."_

_He had intended to wait, he really did - but the long months of abstinence, and the left-over adrenaline of war, coupled with the inexplicable, desperate hunger for the fair-haired, fair-skinned girl broke all of his practiced restraints. So, despite Alamaech's warnings, he found himself taking Alcestis one moonlit night, a week's journey away from the Draconian capital._

_She was perfect, writhing on the blanket beneath him, glowing like a beacon under the moon's rays. It was addicting, the way her body begged for his touch while her mouth spewed incoherent refusals and protests. He had never meant to go all the way - although no law in the land will condemn the Crown Prince for taking what he wanted, at any time he wanted it - but it was too much, the feel of her lips against his, the softness of her skin beneath his touch, the smell of her hair on his nostrils._

_He had emptied himself into her the entire night, reveling in her wanton moans and cries, knowing right then and there that this girl will find a place beside him as soon as he is crowned Emperor of Draconia._

_The next morning, however, he found Alcestis feverish and shivering by his side. Thinking he might have overdone it, he called for Alamaech, risking his right hand man's indignation and self-righteous anger._

_He did not expect Alamaech's diagnosis. "She had been poisoned."_

_"Impossible. She was with me the entire night. An intruder would have woken me up."_

_"It was not an intruder, Your Highness. It was you."_

_It took a while before the fact sunk in, and even then, he denied it. "Nonsense. It was my blood that cured her from the poisoned arrow, was it not?"_

_"Poison is in everything, and no thing is without poison. The dosage makes it either a poison, or a remedy."*_

_Regulus understood, of course. Fed with poison since he was young, by a mother who wished to protect him from the assassination attempts that took the life of the other male heirs, he had literally become a living, lethal cocktail. In his veins ran the blood of his mother's people, the race which made the poisoned arrows that almost killed Alcestis. It was the reason why his Harem never remains constant, like a snake that regularly sheds its skin, and why he will never produce an heir._

_It was his poison that killed the former Emperor, and the erstwhile Crown Prince. The lethal potency of his blood as it spilled on the warfront, made more noxious by the intensity of his emotions while in battle._

_"I cannot lose her, Alamaech."_

_It was a simple plea, and he knew that Alamaech understood. "She is safe for now, my Prince. But I cannot guarantee that I will be able to save her the next time."_

_"There will be no next time. I will not lay a finger on her, not until she is able to survive my touch."_

_"I will not lie, Your Highness. It will be difficult, and uncertain. She would have to face death many times, although I swear to you that death will have to go through me first before it touches her."_

_"Then I entrust her to you, as I trust you with my life. I leave her in your care, High Counsel Alamaech."_

**cupbearer**

He watched her now, small frame huddled in the middle of the bed, pushing away a half-finished plate of grains and mixed fruits that lay on a small serving table set before her.

"You should eat more," he commented, casting a reproachful glance at the barely touched food.

She shook her head, and the lustrous, silky strands rippled enticingly around her face. "I am full, thank you very much."

Sighing, he took a tentative step towards her, watching her reaction. When she didn't demur, he sat beside her and carefully lifted the tray, setting it on the floor beside the bed.

"Was the food poisoned?" She asked, and against himself a pang of guilt twisted his heart.

"No, it was not. Although it wouldn't have hurt you, even if it was."

She raised wide, guileless eyes to his face, and it took every ounce of whatever control he had left to keep himself from grabbing and kissing her until they both lose their senses. "Will no poison ever work on me again?"

"There is nothing more toxic than my blood, which you ingested quite a lot of during your execution. If you have survived that, then nothing else could harm you."

A string of emotions crossed her face, and he looked at her, mesmerized, patiently waiting for the flurry questions that he knew she had.

"Where are we?"

"At my private citadel in the Eastern Plains. I had it built over the ruins of the temple where you were born."

"What happened to me? How come I am not dead?"

"Alamaech put the proper amount of my blood in the potion you were made to drink, to make you fall into a deep sleep. After you were pronounced dead, Tatsky spirited you away from the Palace through the trapdoor under your bed. You knew of that escape route, yes?"

She nodded distractedly, much more concerned with her thoughts. "Berenice. Is she --"

"She survived, although I am not sure if she is still fit to remain as a woman of the Harem."

At that the old, familiar fire that he loved so much flared brightly on her eyes.

"How could you? You intentionally made her drink it, knowing the wine was poisoned..."

"I knew of the herbs you gave her, and trusted in your skill to counteract the poison. You have been doing the same to all of the other concubines, were you not?"

He could tell that she did not expect that, judging from the appalled look that crossed her face. "No, not all of them," she admitted. "Only those who are willing, worthy enough of your attention, and fit to be the mother of your children."

It was the way she said it, pure and simple and honest, that calmed the raging beast inside. For the three years that he had spent apart from her, that beast had been pacing with unease, insecure of her affection, having been denied of her presence for so long.

Now she sat before him, with nothing to stand between them, and he was finally, finally free to touch her. Unable to resist, he raised a hand to gently cup her face, and his heart rejoiced as she leaned to the touch, like a lonely traveller finally reaching home.

"There is only one woman who could bear my children, and I will have no one else but her."

Her eyes softened at that, the edges glittering with tears. "Is that why you went through all this? So you can finally produce an heir?"

Anger welled from within as he rebelled against her notion that she was any less than what she actually is. "You are important to me, much more than the life I possess, or the future generation whom I will sire. If giving me a child will kill you, then I will not have it."

"But why fake my death? I was in your Harem! If you wanted me, you could have had me, when Alamaech had deemed I was ready."

"My mother was a concubine, and not even a favoured one. Still, she had to contend with assassins, with traitors and conspirators who either wanted her life or mine. What do you think they will do to you, once they realize that you mean everything to me?"

He knew she understood, from the way her defiant eyes flickered. After all, she was his Cup Bearer - witness to the most cunning of assassination plots, and the first victim of all of them.

"So what will happen now? You will hide me here, like some secret mistress, to visit on your occasional retreats? Definitely, the Emperor cannot be seen leaving every night to lie with someone else while his Harem waits at his feet."

A smile curled his lips as he recognized the undertones of jealousy in her tirade. Pulling her closely to him, he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head before burying his face on her hair. "Ask me to give up my rule, and see how I will."

She will never do that, he knew, but he wanted her to understand that there is nothing, nothing in this world that he will not give or will not do, for her. She deserves that and more, for she had given him her everything - her life, loyalty and faithful service - when she had nothing.

Their journey is hardly finished, and there is no guarantee of safety for her or for him. But both of them would rather have this moment, no matter how short or long it will be, if it meant a chance at spending life with each other.

"I am the Emperor's Cup Bearer. I am yours, if you will take me."

**cupbearer**

"Drink it."

"No."

Brilliant blue eyes narrowed a fraction. "Drink it. Now."

"But Mother, it tastes awful! I don't like it!"

Seeing the look on his Empress' face - the one which is counting down to three before she gives the five-year-old brat an ultimatum - he decided to interfere.

"The medicine tastes bad because it is potent. It will make you feel better, Alistair."

"But, Father, I am not sick! I am well, see? Sir Alamaech tells me I have your blood, and that makes me in-vlun-erable!"

His eyes grew wide and before he could control himself, burst into peals of amused laughter. Behind him, he heard his wife clucking her tongue, and knew that he is also in deep trouble now.

"Oh, gods," she muttered, grabbing the small vial of evil-looking medicine and taking a small sip. Grimacing at the taste, she turned on her heels and left the Crown Prince's room, ignoring the child's shrieks of "I told you so!"

She returned a few minutes later with a glass of some colourful concoction on her hands. Offering it to the child, she said cheerfully, "Cherry-flavoured medicine especially made for a sick little prince. Who wants it?"

A delighted smile beamed up Alistair's face, shaming the sun in its brightness. With a squeal, he grabbed the glass from his mother's grasp and downed its contents, licking his lips as he went.

Shaking his head, he turned to Alcestis, who had tiredly collapsed on the foot of the sick child's bed. "You should have just given the cherry-flavoured medicine from the very beginning."

She threw him and incredulous look. "Regulus, there is no cherry-flavoured fever medicine. Alamaech does not see the need to make one, so I had to improvise." Knitting her forehead, she added as an afterthought, "Actually, my intention was to make it taste like orange."

He laughed heartily, drawing his beloved into a warm, safe embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Paracelsus, Swiss scientist (1493-1541)


End file.
